Loyal To A Fault
by Konsui's Little Brother
Summary: Bravery and the will to go on adventures are what people think of when they hear Gryffindor. Often, they forget that there's a third trait. This third trait, the trait of loyalty, is the one that Neville holds closest to his heart.


A/N: This was written for a competition on the HPFC forums. Amortentiaaffair's lovely competition, _Emotion & Songs Competition_. I was given the song New Slang, by The Shins, and chose to let it set the mood and inspire the following story. It was fun to write and I absolutely loved the song I was challenged with! Hopefully, you all enjoy reading it too!

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><p>When Neville had first gotten his acceptance letter into Hogwarts, it had made him overjoyed. It meant that he really was a wizard. That he had a chance to prove to his Gran he <em>was<em> worthy of the Longbottom title. Just as worthy as his father had been

Those were his first thoughts on the matter.

His second, was that he would finally be able to make a friend.

Neville had never had an actual friend before. It had always just been him and his Gran. Sometimes a cousin or a niece would come over, but they were always far older than he was and were only there because his Gran had asked them to come and sit with him for a while.

But going to Hogwarts would give him the chance to make, not just one friend, but a whole house filled with them! That excited him almost more than the thought of learning magic.

When the day to leave for Hogwarts finally rolled around, Neville said his goodbyes without tears. He loved his Gran but she was a very strict woman -_Is that something you think your parents would approve of? I think not!_- and the thoughts of school had him almost eager to leave her behind.

And then he stepped aboard the Hogwarts Express, was met with a sea of faces he didn't know, and Neville felt his heart drop.

How was he supposed to go about making friends? It wasn't something that he had much practice with. Even just speaking to someone his own age was something that he seldom did. But, as his Gran so loved to point out, his father had been brave. Brave as could be; even braver, she often said, then the Potter's.

Neville wanted to be like his father.

So he took a deep breath and tried to make his way through the crowd of people. They pushed into him and jostled him and it was so very, very _loud_. A large blond boy slammed into his back, muttered what could have been a 'sorry' and kept going, and the young Longbottom was forced to watch in dismay as his newly purchased toad was flung from his pocket.

Loosing Trevor that day led him to meet Hermione Granger; a girl whom he considered to be his very first friend.

Through Hermione, Neville met Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The trio were as tight as could be; where one was lacking, the other two more than made up for it, and they were so _loyal_ to each other. During that first year, though, they made time for Neville.

They were all friends.

And then, like that, they weren't. Rather, they weren't close. Even that small bond that they shared during the first few weeks of their First Year seemed to disappear. At least, the ones connecting Neville to them did.

As a trio, the bonds stayed strong but there was only room for three.

In the Second Year, Neville blamed it on the Chamber Of Secrets being opened.

In the Third Year, it was the fault of the Dementors.

By Fourth Year, he could barely cling on to the hope that their ties as house-mates would keep them friends -_if nothing else, Neville, you remember that a Gryffindor is loyal to those around it! Your father, he was a loyal one. Didn't just die for the Wizarding World. He died because he was loyal to the Potters_- and that one of them would notice.

Notice that the rest of the school had deemed him the back-up target. When it wasn't Harry or Ron or Hermione locked in their sights, it was Neville.

Why?

Because he was clumsy and goofy and _friendless_. Harry had two best mates to stick up for him. Neville had whatever stranger was passing by and took pity on him. That is, if the stranger didn't join in on the laughing and the pointing and the jeering.

When Fifth Year came around, Neville had forced himself to face the facts. It wasn't going to happen, that dream of friendship with the trio that he'd had back in First Year. It didn't make him happy, in fact he just wished that he could go back to being ignorant and pretending that he was still a part of the group, but it was easier than playing dumb.

It was that year that he started to train -_spent hours everyday training, your father did, because he knew what needed to be done_- and really focus on his studies. There were no dreams of grandeur to draw his mind else where anymore.

But Harry was still a fellow Gryffindor, still a could-of-been friend, and so Neville followed him to the Department Of Mysteries.

Followed him into a group of Death Eaters.

Follwed him to Bellatrix Lestrange -_an evil, awful woman she is. You ever see her boy, you run_- and into his nightmares come true.

Harry never questioned it. Ron never questioned it. Hermione never questioned it. But there was a head nod from George and a grin from Fred and this barely hidden look of _pride_ in McGonnagle's when Neville was finally realesed from Madame Pomfrey's that let him know someone did.

Someone knew about Gryffindor Loyalty, even if it wasn't the person he wanted to notice it.

On the Seventh Year, Neville stood alone at Hogwarts.

Yes, there were other students there. From Ravenclaw to Slytherin, the houses were still filled. It just wasn't the same though.

One of the only older boys left in Gryffindor, Neville was forced to step up and lead. Forced to fill a role that was already taken -_never going to live up to your father when you get grades poor as that_- and one that he could never even hope of filling.

Neville wanted to go home.

Instead, he stood up and struck back against the Carrows. Against Snape. Against _Voldemort_.

Fought back the overwhelming surge of _loneliness_ that seemed to be the only thing he was capable of feeling anymore. Not anger, like Ginny. Not sadness, like Padma. Not hate, like McGonnagle.

Loneliness.

It was on the dawn of the final battle, as he dodged spells and ducked curses, that the thought hit him. There one moment and gone the rest.

What would have happened if he'd been a part of the trio?

Would he still have stayed at Hogwarts that last year? Would his face be laden with scars cuased by Alecto and Amycus? Would one of the others have been forced to take his place? Or would he still, through other ways, be stuck looking in on the type of life that he was doomed to never have?

Neville didn't let himself dwell on it for long. He focused on helping in the battle instead of thinking of the could-be's. Let himself get wrapped up in the heat of the moment because, if he didn't, he'd find himself collapsing on the ground in tears; for himself and his Gran and the people _dieing_ all around him.

It was at the end of the battle that Neville was shown Harry's 'dead' body.

Around him, the fight seemed to disappear. The wizards and witches of Hogwarts were lost without their beacon, their guiding light, and could only stare out in an almost numb-shock. Neville had been in the back of the crowd and had to push his way up to see it for himself; because Harry couldn't die, not now when there were so many people here _fighting for the Potters_.

It was that moment that Voldemort's attention was drawn onto Neville.

Even the thought of joining Voldemort, voluntary or not, sent the young Gryffindor's blood boiling. His stomach flipped, his heart pounded in his ears, and the fearful gazes of the other students burned into the back of his head. They were scared and they had every right to be.

He was more than scared. He was _terrified_. But he was also angry and a Gryffindor and his father's son, despite what his Gran always told him.

It was in that moment, standing in front of Voldemort with defiance hot on his tounge and , that Neville Longbottom proved he was loyal to a fault.


End file.
